sad month
sad days
days are stuck
days don't move
move fast
move ahead
ahead of this bed
ahead of this room
room upstairs
room empty
empty heart
empty dreams
dreams are few
dreams are fading
fading memories
fading desires
desires collect in eyes
desires streak down face
face is ashen
face is cold
cold lips
cold hands
hands make poetry
hands cradle books
books under pillow
books on desk
desk covered with dust
desk full of junk
junk in disorder
junk in clutter
clutter uninspires
clutter mutter
mutter alone
mutter to walls
walls stare all day
walls are white
white LED lamp
white is not right
right for me
right this week
week is long
week is boring
boring thoughts
boring poem
poem looks depressing
poem reads lame
lame writing
lame blitz
blitz...
writing...
_____
©AmaliaAbbar02122018
A/N: being in quarantine sucks.
YOU ARE READING
Paper Wings
PoésieIn a blink, paper wings from before and after join their hands-- to carry me off, to carry me away; to a country, where happiness is the medium; to a country, where tears are taboo; to a country, with one season. A season dictated by Paper Wings...
